


Systems Check: Everything Operational

by catwalksalone



Series: Beyond the Gulag [5]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Episode Tag, Frottage, M/M, Mentions of Canon Relationships, Post Episode s01e12: The Last Refuge, Team Dynamics, definitely not hate sex, distraction sex, not so casual sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 05:10:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8043772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catwalksalone/pseuds/catwalksalone
Summary: After the events of The Last Refuge, Ray and Len have a whole lot of maintenance to do.





	Systems Check: Everything Operational

**Author's Note:**

> The lack of, well, _anything_ , about Anna in _The Last Refuge_ bothered me, so this is my attempt to address that. If you're still playing along at home, there should be one more story in this series (I hope). Thanks for reading along so far!
> 
> Thanks also to my lovely soupytwist for letting me shove her down the Legends rabbit hole (oculus?) and then be the amazing beta that she always is. She's the best.

The hatch closed behind Jax's father, amnesia pill clutched in his fist. Rip whirled around, the fierce, focused expression on his face something Ray had learned to view with at best consternation and at worst a strong urge to flee.

"Right. Gideon, London, 2166. Plot a course."

Snart stepped forward from the assembled huddle. He held up a hand. "Gideon, wait." 

Rip frowned and opened his mouth, but Snart stepped in before he could say anything. "They say time waits for no man, but I think we all know it waits for _us_. 2166 will be 2166 whenever we get there. We need to be prepared, am I right? At our sharpest. And I don't know about you but my weapon needs attention. You want us to go after Savage at his strongest then we need to be at our best, too."

"He's right," agreed Sara. "I could do with a visit to Medbay. The Pilgrim got a couple of knocks in that are gonna leave me stiff if they're left alone."

"It's been...a day," Kendra added, accompanied by Snart's murmured, "Aren't they all?" 

"Then it's agreed. Jax and I should rest and recharge. Everybody else should-" Professor Stein waved a hand airily, "-go do whatever they have to do."

Rip scowled, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning to one side in the way that always made Ray imagine he carried a small black hole in his coat, warping his center of gravity. Perhaps it was formed from grief. "I suppose I have been overruled. Gideon, as only nominative Captain of this ship, may I humbly suggest that our flight time commences in six hours from now?"

"I like eight," said Mick.

"Seven it is then, Gideon," said Rip with a breezy dismissal that was instantly belied by the way he stalked out of the loading bay, muscles twitching in his clenched jaw. 

Snart turned around, surveying the remaining crew. "Well, what are you waiting for? I got you the time so use it."

Kendra touched Ray's arm. "I'm going to take a nap. You coming?"

Ray looked down at her. For all that she was right here, her fingertips warm against his arm, she seemed distant, behind some sort of wall that he didn't know how to breach. He forced himself to smile so Kendra wouldn't notice anything wrong; not that there was, exactly. At least nothing that Ray could put his finger on.

"I think I might work on the Atom suit. I got a few dings in the last fight. Better make sure nothing vital will drop off the next time we need it."

Kendra flashed him a grin. "Things not dropping off are exactly what I look for in a fiancé," she said. "Come find me when you're done."

"You're on." Ray accepted her proffered kiss on the cheek and then made his way to the room Professor Stein and himself had designated the Lab. 

It wasn't much more than a large walk-in closet, but there was room for Ray's suit and a couple of benches of projects he or the professor were working on. Ray's own tools were neatly stored in one corner of the room, while other boxes and gadgets--including some Ray could only assume were from the future--were hung in rows on one wall, closely-packed and tessellated to within an inch of their lives.

Ray stood in front of his suit and put his hands on his hips. "Right," he said, and stared at the right shoulder where a deep gouge scored the red surface, leaving a silver scar. Now what had done that? He tried to think back, but couldn't seem to get further than handing Anna a glass of water and a small, white pill.

"You won't get anything fixed if you daydream your life away, Raymond. Let me guess, you were rehearsing your vows."

"Huh?" Ray blinked himself back into the present. He turned his head to see Snart leaning against a bench, ankles crossed, twisting a handheld optical coherence tomography scanner through his fingers. Ray allowed himself to be momentarily distracted by Snart's hands, strong with long, deft fingers that had finessed their way into more morally questionable situations than Ray'd had science classes. Not that he'd ever admit it to Snart, but the pick-pocketing at least was pretty hot. Ray wondered if he qualified as a morally questionable situation. He kinda hoped he did.

"Maybe don't do that with the super expensive equipment." Ray plucked the scanner off him, lingering a second too long over the touch, and put it carefully back on the bench.

"Maybe don't leave the super expensive equipment out where it could get broken the next time we get attacked."

"You mean if."

"I mean when."

"Fair point," agreed Ray, and put the scanner back in its box, flicking the clasp closed. "Aren't you supposed to be attending to your weapon?"

"Who says I'm not?" Snart answered with a leer that was a little too cartoon villain, even for him.

Ray shook his head. "Zero out of ten for subtlety. What do you really want, Snart?"

Snart dropped the smirk so quickly Ray felt his body tense with the mental whiplash.

"This whole younger selves gig has been a trip, but I'm _over_ it. And I didn't even have my dead fiancée brought aboard." He looked down at his hands, picking at already immaculate fingernails. "You doing okay, Boy Scout?"

"Eagle." It was a Pavlovian response by now, the two-syllables giving Ray just enough normality to weather the blow that, actually, no. No. He was not okay. Not okay at all. How had he not realized?

"Sit down, Raymond. You've gone paler than a room full of Republicans and I'm not hauling your ass off the floor if you faint on me." With one foot, Snart shoved a stool the short distance across the floor to Ray. He took it, grateful, and sank down, gripping the seat with both hands.

"So…" Snart said, and it felt like an invitation, not impatience.

Ray shook his head again, like that would be any good at sorting out the whirl of thoughts that blew through his head like tornadoes in ever-tightening circles. "I can't believe I...What was I thinking, letting her go? It's not like I chose to move on, I had to. She d- But she was here. In my room. In the room I share with Kendra and I...I didn't tell her. I didn't say, 'Hey, Anna, in a couple of years you need to book us on vacation out of Star City. Don't tell me, just spring the surprise.' I didn't tell her to sign us up for self-defense classes or that she should carry a gun. I didn't tell her _anything_. She's dead again and I killed her. Twice. And all I do is think about how I beat Carter and got the girl and even that's got a ticking clock we're all pretending we can't hear."

"You ever stop to think if you saved her we'd all be dead?"

Ray stared at Snart, who'd moved on to his other hand, still carefully not looking anywhere near Ray's face. "What?"

"Anna dying, that's what pushed you to become the Atom, right? Without the Atom each of us would probably have died at least once. Okay, so we also wouldn't have found ourselves in some of the trouble in the first place, but you get the picture."

"But why can't I have both?" Ray knew he sounded whiny, but he didn't care. It was whine or break things and there was nothing in this room he could afford to lose.

"The sacrifice of one for the good of the many. It's a cliche for a reason."

"But-" Ray felt a wave of pressure rise up through his chest, a silent sob edged with panic and fury. "Rip is tearing time apart to save his family, Jax tried to warn his dad about Mogadishu. Me? I'm just a self-aggrandising wannabe hero who let the love of his life walk back into certain death without even a hint. Is this who I want to be? The guy who's so obsessed with the present and the future that I forget about the past? God, what the fuck am I?" He stood, sending the stool backwards into a bench with a reverberating clang. The noise rang through him like a bell, every nerve ending sending back its own jangling response.

Snart was on him in a split second, flat palm meeting Ray's chest with a dull thud. "Time wants to happen," he said. "Stop being a self-pitying martyr and be the hero you're supposed to be. Got it?"

The words cut through the clamor of Ray's thoughts, flicking on a switch somewhere in the darkest recesses of his brain. Salvation. He clapped his own hand over Snart's, gripping hard. 

"Why do you care?" he asked, trying to keep the suspicion in his voice to a minimum.

"Who said anything about caring?" There wasn't a single word in the sentence that wasn't dripping in italicised sarcasm, but Ray had ahold of something now and, like a dog with a favorite chew toy, he would worry at it until he had the answer he was looking for.

"You're here," he said, his rapid-cycling thoughts slowing his words. "You're not anywhere else, so-"

Leonard yanked his hand away, but Ray fought back so that their arms hovered, shaking in the air as if held by invisible force field. "Can it, pretty boy. Sara's in Medbay or we'd be partaking in our standing card game."

"Practising your cheating?"

"Not at all. She's ahead. Smart, strong and beautiful, you gotta admire that in a woman."

Ray let Leonard's hand drop and rubbed his upper arm, suddenly itchy in his skin. There was something different about Snart's voice, something baked into the way he talked about Sara that for some reason made Ray think of graduation ceremonies and ice cream. That was it; there was a respect and warmth to his words that was never apparent when Leonard was with Ray. That was unfair, right? Given that Ray was the one Leonard was actually sleeping with. What was he? Some two-bit whore from the Salvation brothel? (Sex-worker, Ray mentally amended, apologising to the profession and remembering Felicity's lectures on choice versus exploitation.)

"Why do you-" Ray started and then cut himself off because it was going nowhere good. For a start, why should it matter that Snart had a thing for Sara? It wasn't as if Ray had a monogamous leg to stand on and, okay, so Leonard might mostly be using Ray for the sex--the really good sex--but he was here, breaking the rules they didn't even have by asking about Anna. That meant something. What the something was Ray couldn't be sure of, but it was more than a quick fumble in a darkened gulag, that Ray knew. Or thought he knew.

"Why do I what?"

Ray shrugged. So Snart thought he held all the cards, did he? Ray pushed his imaginary chips to the center of his imaginary table. All in.

"Doesn't matter." He raised his chin. "You care about me."

Leonard scowled. "I don't do feelings."

Ray allowed himself to grin, warmth like spring sunshine across his body. "Oh, you do," he said. "You love Mick, you seem to have plenty of feelings for Sara, you care about the fate of this team and me? You _like_ me. You just can't admit it."

Leonard's face was a thundercloud. "I like getting off. You're convenient." 

"If you say so." The stacks of chips shook as Ray wavered, but he wasn't about to let it show. "Your card partner would probably be up for some friends with benefits action. She's picky, but you're kinda cute, so…"

"Shut. Up." Leonard crowded Ray, shoving him against a bench so that the edge pressed a sharp line into Ray's back. He followed up with a hard kiss Ray was unable to resist, opening to him, letting him shape the way their mouths fit together, deep and wet and turning Ray's legs into the gangly, unsteady limbs of a newborn calf. He dug his hands into Leonard's waist just to stop himself from falling.

Leonard slid his mouth down over Ray's chin, tracking the underside of his jaw before nudging Ray's head upwards with an insistent jerk of his nose. Ray complied. It reminded him of the way his cousin's cat had demanded petting, butting its head against Ray's hand until it succeeded in getting Ray's fingers exactly where it wanted them. Ultimately, with his allergy this always ended in sneezing and inevitable scratches from a startled cat. Neither of them had ever learned. Ray wasn't sure he'd even wanted to. He raised one hand and tentatively ran it over Leonard's hair, soft under his fingertips. It felt good. Familiar. Ray could feel his blood rushing under the careful touch of Leonard's lips, teeth grazing lightly over his skin. No sudden movements, he thought, and stifled a groan, settling for tipping his head back a little further to give Leonard better access.

Instead Leonard stepped away, the strip of pressure of the bench against Ray's back now only observable by its absence. Ray readied his protest, but then Leonard said, "Turn around, bright eyes," and, body set to automatic as if Snart's kiss had been the key, Ray did as he was told, hot palms cooling quickly on the cold, metal surface.

Ray stared at the wall, silver and grooved, the overhead light casting dark shadows, recessed like hidden doorways. "Have you ever seen a total eclipse? Pretty cool. Like, a solar eclipse, though, I have no idea how you'd go about eclipsing a heart, not even metaphorically. Maybe it's Welsh thing, they're very dramatic."

Leonard didn't reply, deft fingers already working at Ray's pants and shoving them down his thighs. Ray's cock, curled and half-hard, sprang to attention, grateful for the freedom, less grateful for the sudden drop in temperature. Ray wanted badly to touch himself, but it seemed like Snart had a plan, and Ray'd had plenty of time to learn how to be a good team player. Soft sounds behind him meant that Leonard's cock against his ass crack was not entirely a surprise, but he drew in a sharp breath anyway, the hard heat of it going straight to his groin. 

He felt Leonard fist his own cock, knuckles pressing into Ray's buttocks. "We're short of something."

Ray frowned, puzzling this through, and then inspiration struck. He leaned to the side, rummaging through a box that was just within arms' reach, fingers closing around a small tube. He straightened, hooking an arm over his shoulder to pass the tube to Snart. 

"Industrial grade lubricant," he said, unable to keep the pride out of his voice. "I invented it. Reduces friction by, like, all the percent."

"Of course you invented it. Why wouldn't you?" 

Ray didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't the slow glide of Leonard's lubed up fingers working their way steadily into him. He scrabbled to find a grip, but there was nothing to dig into, no edges to bend over and hang on to. Instead he put his palms flat against the wall and braced. 

Then Leonard was on him, cock sliding between his cheeks, hands gripping under Ray's arms as if about to haul him away from danger, to save him. Ray let out a sound that hovered halfway between scorn and hilarity. Who exactly was Snart saving him from if not from himself? But then Leonard rocked into him, lips fastening on the nape of Ray's neck at exactly the point that drove him most crazy, his cock stuttered against the underside of the bench, cool and smooth and not quite enough, and Ray stopped caring. It seemed to Ray that they were caught in their own time bubble, where it could be seconds or hours or days and they would all be filled with moments like this, of the comforting press of skin on skin, of air heavy with snatched breaths and the careful withholding of words. Leonard's arms were wrapped around Ray's chest now, t-shirt rucked up to expose Ray's back, Leonard's chin hooked over his shoulder. Ray wanted...Ray _wanted_.

"Please," he said. "I need you to…"

"I got you." Leonard loosened one arm, reaching around to find Ray's cock, the touch an instant relief. Leonard set up a rhythm with hand and cock, slip and slide, slip and slide, and Ray rocked into it, clenching with each stroke. He thought about what could happen if he changed the angle. About the glint in Felicity's eyes when she'd dangled the strap on harness from one finger. About being full again. About being full of Len. 

The wash of excited nausea was so strong it Ray could taste it in his mouth. He swallowed it down, the acid trail burning even more fiercely with the swell of sudden shame that closed his throat. God, why was it that he wanted Snart inside him so badly when he'd never come close with Kendra? 

"Can we- I mean, not now, but soon. Will you-" Fuck, why was he babbling? Shut up, Ray, shut up, just enjoy the ride for what it is: the lull before the fight. 

"Full sentences, genius." Leonard's voice was rough-edged and low, burrowing into Ray's skin and lying there sleek and watchful.

Ray swallowed again, his stomach protesting his inability to stay quiet. "Well, this is working from the presumption that we actually succeed in our quest against Savage intact, to all intents and purposes anyway. Because there's always the possibility that-"

"Raymond," growled Snart, with a warning squeeze of Ray's cock, his own still keeping a steady rhythm.

"Ow. Sorry. Yes. I-" Ray took a deep breath, his cheeks heating uncomfortably. "I want you to fuck me. I want to know how it feels to have you inside me." He dropped his head, shaking it, hating himself a little more with every word he managed to grind out. "And I want to see your face when you come."

And he expected Snart's words to have claws, to rip at him, burst the bubble of illusion they were in. But he said nothing, only stuttered in his insistent strokes, fingers digging hard into Ray's ribs. Ray felt warm, wet stripes on his back and the shock of it brought him to his own release, the sweet pleasure of it sweeping across him, wind through the grass, back once more in that warm, spring sunshine. 

"Cleanup on aisle four," he muttered, letting one hand fall back to the bench.

There was a muffled laugh into his shoulder and Ray had only a moment to feel surprised that Leonard was, first, laughing with him rather than at him and, second, still holding on to him, before he was letting go and moving away. Ray gave himself a few seconds to get his breathing under control before pulling his pants up and turning around. 

He half-expected Leonard to be gone, and was relieved to find him still there, pulling out drawers from the wall cabinets. He reached into one with a bright, "Aha!" and tossed whatever he'd found there over his shoulder towards Ray. 

Ray caught the rag and grinned. He dropped to the floor and reached under the bench to wipe the floor. 

"You didn't say no," he said, carefully not looking back at Leonard.

"I didn't."

There was a silence. Ray balled up the dirty rag in his hands and wondered what he was supposed to do with it now. 

"Thank you," he said, still not looking. "For before. Asking about Anna, it was- Thank you."

"Don't make a big deal out of it. We need your head in the game."

"Sure," Ray agreed cheerily. Once he'd have taken that at face value, but he was older and wiser these days. Confused about exactly how much older, thanks to the vagaries of time travel, but definitely aged. 

He took a deep breath; if Len could be a standup guy over Anna then this had to be his turn, right? He had to at least imply he was down with the whole Sara thing even if he wasn't sure he was entirely, even if he didn't have words to put to his vague sense of unrest. Better say something now. Keeping it inside would only take that unrest and hide away to take root in dark places. Who knew what it could grow into? "Anyway, Sara's cool," he added.

"Mmhmm."

"I mean, I have Kendra, so-"

"I'm not asking your permission, Raymond."

Ray flipped over the next card in his deck: Jack of Hearts. A little wily, that knave, stealer of tarts that he was. He'd push his luck and so would Ray. "Aren't you?" He looked up, forcing himself to meet Leonard's eyes straight on. 

Leonard's mouth twitched. He folded his arms and leaned against the bench, looking down at Ray with one eyebrow raised. "I think you'll find that I am not a number."

Ray laughed and threw the dirty rag at Len's face. He caught it one handed and scowled. Ray laughed again. "No, you're a very naughty boy. No, wait. You're a free man, I know." The laughter dropped away. "Still," he said. "Just so you know."

Len rolled his eyes. "You better get your suit fixed. We're on the clock."

"And whose fault is it that I'm behind?" Ray retorted, irritated that Snart hadn't responded to his overtures about Sara with more gratitude and even more irritated with himself for expecting anything more than their usual confusing encounters. 

Len leered. "That's not how I remember it."

"Go away," snapped Ray. "I'm sure Sara's done in Medbay by now. Go play cards or get her to test your weapon or whatever. I've got work to do."

Len shrugged, pushing himself off the bench and leaving without another word. Ray listened to his retreating footsteps accompanied by a tuneful humming. He stood, brushing metal dust off his knees. He really needed to get one of the cleaning drones in here. The footsteps faded first, the melody lingering a little longer.

Somewhere out there in time, Anna was going about her life oblivious to the danger she would have to face. Somewhere out there with her, Ray was doing the same thing, both of them headed inescapably towards disaster. Time wanted to happen and it always would. There would always be that somewhere, no matter how far Ray stretched away from it; it would always be happening now. If Ray had learned anything these past months, these past years, these past moments, it was that time was only linear when you looked at it from the inside. They were all of them already in the past, the present and the future, so perhaps the order of it didn't really matter, only the choices they made. Maybe Len wasn't only trying to ease his conscience and Ray had done the right thing in letting history be what it always had been, even if that meant he had to carry the weight of that choice with him the rest of his life. 

Letting out a long, shaky breath, Ray turned back to his suit, considering his options. Just a little reconstructive surgery, he thought. Nothing major required. He turned to his toolbox, humming as he sorted through it. Where was the- Oh, yeah. His cock twitched sleepily at the memory.

"Once upon a time I had light in my life," he sang, putting on his headlamp, "but now I need a flashlight 'cos it's dark. Nothing I can do, it's a total eclipse of the-" He stopped. Really, so dramatic, the Welsh. Maybe it was all the sheep. He turned back to the repairs, this time humming quietly. There was work to do. The future was coming, inexorable as the tide, and Ray needed to be his best.


End file.
